A Few Errands
by SingingFlames
Summary: Judy Witwicky needs a car to run a few errands. And the only one around is Bumblebee... Another fun-fic. Rated T for a couple innuendos.


A Few Errands

"Hey, Bee. I got a huge favor to ask." Sam rubbed his hands together, refusing to look straight at the brilliant yellow Autobot. "I'll be honest. It's, well, it's _hazardous_."

Bumblebee stood as tall as possible in the tiny one-car garage. Putting his fists up, he mimed several punches, ducking and dodging an invisible foe. For Sam, he could handle any adversary. His human friend held up his hands, trying to calm the bot.

"Thanks, Bee. You're the best. But see, um, there's really something you oughta know … "

"Sam! Where are you? I need to go now, or I'll never get those melon balls done! Is he ready yet?" Judy Witwicky's voice rang out from the house, easily carrying to the sanctuary of the garage.

"Um, yeah, my mom needs to borrow you."

Bumblebee turned shocked eyes to his companion. He fell into a seated position, the sudden movement – and subsequent tremors it caused – dislodging numerous small items from the crowded shelves. Even if his vocals had worked, he couldn't have formed any thoughts to say.

"I'm sorry! Really, I am. But her car's in the shop, Dad took his, and she's got this dinner thing tonight. She's freaking out. You know Mom. I'd take her, but I've got a paper that's due tomorrow. I'm gonna be working on it all night … "

The yellow Autobot scanned his audio files, quickly finding something appropriate from an old sci-fi TV show. A thick Scottish accent blared out from his speakers, "_I cannae do it, Captain._"

"Please, Bee? Mom's gonna blow a gasket, or whatever moms have, if she doesn't get to the store soon. Oh, and a couple other errands, but she promised they'd be fast. Please?" Sam pleaded.

Bumblebee held his head in his hands, pantomiming sobs.

Coming around the corner, Judy cried out in shock. "Holy Moses! A warning, please! You're really scary looking. You're not so freaky when you're a car. Cars shouldn't have two arms and two legs. There should be a law. Or a sign, or something. 'Beware Big Alien Car.'"

"Mom," Sam said, voice low. He didn't want her to offend the Autobot.

"What, Sam?" Judy turned to him, eyes wide.

"A little sensitivity? Maybe?"

"What are you talking about?" She glanced between her son and the Cybertronian. Shaking her head, she waved Sam away. She considered Bumblebee. "I'm ready. But I'm not climbing on you like that. Could you, y'know, do your 'thing?'"

The yellow 'mech glanced at Sam again. The teen mouthed the words, 'I'm sorry!' He put his hands together like he was praying. Or begging. Probably begging. Heaving a loud electronic sigh, Bumblebee transformed into his alt-mode, a sleek yellow Camaro with twin racing stripes.

"You know, this would be completely unnecessary if Ron could stop touching the fruit. He bruised it, I know it! That man can not keep his hands off my melons!"

Bumblebee noted, with some concern, how quickly Sam turned a brilliant scarlet. The human's mouth opened and shut a few times, then he muttered, "I need to go."

"Bye, Sam!" Judy waved cheerfully as her son fled.

Confused, Bumblebee scanned his friend, attempting to determine the cause for his discomfort. Unable to find a physical reason for it, he deduced that an emotional stimulus caused it. He filtered the last statements prior to Sam's sudden departure through his processors. Again, nothing registered as unusual. He then changed the parameters of his search to include terms the local humans referred to as 'slang.' The results were … enlightening. And amusing. He created a permanent file to save a copy of Judy's statement. He never knew when something like that would be useful. If nothing else, some of the other Autobots would appreciate it.

His musings were cut short, as Judy climbed in the driver's seat. She promptly adjusted his mirrors, his seat, the tilt of his wheel, all the while spouting off a non-stop narration about the virtues of melon balls versus other fruit appetizers or – Heaven forbid – nut dishes. Bumblebee learned, in torrid detail, how nuts gave Ron awful gas. This was to be avoided at all costs because, apparently, Ron could 'clear the house.' Whatever that meant.

Bumblebee realized a few minutes into the drive that his inability to speak did not hamper him in his current predicament. He couldn't've gotten a word in if he wanted to. Instead, he turned down his internal audio receivers, and reminded himself that Sam was his friend. It would be impolite, to say the least, to throw his friend's mother into a lake. Or a river. Or a ditch. Or any of the other myriad of possibilities they passed. But it sure would be fun.

Their first stop was a small building set into a shopping center. Judy loudly assured him, rapping his hood and earning several stares from passers-by, "I'll be just a moment!"

'Just a moment,' became over an hour as Bumblebee sat parked outside. Bored, he scanned inside the building and watched as another human washed Judy's hair, then proceeded to take a sharp cutting tool to it. He almost charged in to rescue her, but she didn't seem to mind. Just in case, he stayed on guard. The other human then brought out a skinny, tube-like instrument. His thermals detected heat radiating off this 'thing' that was beyond human safety levels. Again, Judy seemed unconcerned. The second human used the device on her hair, then brushed it in various directions. All the while, Sam's mother continued talking. Bumblebee watched, ready to spring forward if needed. However, nothing adverse happened. After several more minutes, Judy came out looking, as far as he could tell, the same as she had when she went in.

"Do you like it?" Judy primped up her hair, standing in front of him. A lady heading into the salon glanced at her, then the empty car, and quickly looked away.

Bumblebee didn't know how to respond. Optimus Prime was very strict with them keeping their secret in front of civilians. And anyway, even if he did answer, that'd only encourage her to talk more. Not that she needed encouragement.

"You know," she said, climbing behind the wheel, "seeing Sam get ready for his big date tonight got me in the mood to get all done up, too."

Bumblebee stopped in his tracks. Judy let out a surprised, "Oomf!"

Sam … was going on a date tonight? _Not_ working on a paper? He _lied_ to Bumblebee? Shocked, he let Judy start moving him again. He was too busy considering this new information to pay attention as she began her endless orations again. This wouldn't do.

He had plans to make.

Using an open channel, Bumblebee contacted the rest of the Autobots at Diego Garcia. Unable to use his vocalizers, he sent a written message along with his authentication code. He barely noticed as Judy pulled them into a grocery store parking lot. She left.

_This is Bumblebee. Checking in. Situation … confusing._

"_This is Optimus. What is your situation?" _The leader of the Autobots replied vocally, using the same open channel.

_Sam's mother is having a problem. She is quite upset. I am attempting to help._ Bumblebee sent clips of Judy at her most agitated. The last visual he uploaded was her "melon" statement. He waited to see how the others would react.

Silence.

Ratchet broke into the channel. _"I suppose it is good to assist Sam's familial unit. He has assisted us. We must return the favor however we can."_

"_Oh, yes, definitely."_ Even over the comm channel, Bee could hear the humor in Sideswipe's vocals.

"_As the only Autobot present, you must represent our concerns," _Ratchet continued.

_Of course_, Bumblebee wrote. _Sam was quite upset as well. Might I suggest, the next time he visits the base, you personally express your concern about his mother?_ To make his point, he sent the visual of the scarlet-faced Sam.

"_Indeed," _Ratchet concurred, vocals completely serious. _"Sam appears quite upset. His coloration is off. I will be sure to inquire about the state of his maternal figure's melons."_

"_Y'know, we should _all_ be there. After all, we want him to know we care, right? And … and we're thinking of him. All that."_ Sideswipe sounded uncharacteristically eager.

A private channel opened up between Bumblebee and the base.

"_Bumblebee … "_

_Yes, Optimus?_

"_You're supposed to be protecting your charge. Not setting him up for practical jokes."_

_What do you mean? _Bumblebee was glad his leader couldn't read any inflection in a typed message. Sometimes a broken vocalizer was an asset.

"_Don't play innocent with me. Ratchet may not understand, but I do. Sam is our friend. He is your friend."_

… _He lied to me._

"_What?"_

_He said he couldn't help his mother, because of educational pursuits. So I am assisting her. But, instead, he is spending time his mate._

"_Ah, I see. They are confusing creatures." _Optimus broke their comm channel.

Bumblebee considered the conversation, replaying it in his processors. After a moment, he came to a pleasant realization; Optimus Prime had not forbade him, or the others, from expressing their 'concern' to Sam. His engine rumbled as he chuckled to himself. A few humans walking by stared at him.

Another private comm opened up. "_Bee!"_

_Sideswipe! _Bumblebee wished his written response could mimic the other 'mech's exuberance.

"_You have to let me know if Sam's mother says anything else good. We're partners in this. 'Kay? This is going to be great." _Sideswipe laughed. _"You should hear Ratchet complaining about irrational humans, and their unnecessary attachment to produce!"_

Bumblebee searched his files for an appropriate, amused response. _LOL! I'll keep you informed._

As Judy approached from the grocery store, Bumblebee opened a video feed between Sideswipe and himself. Immediately, she launched into a tirade about the price of cantaloupes. And if only Ron hadn't man-handled the last ones, she wouldn't need to get new ones for her melon balls. Maybe she should have gotten the nuts after all. But then she'd be force to smell _that_ for the next two days. And was that really worth it?

"_Wow. Is she always like that?"_

_Yes._

Judy continued, " – and, of course, Sam can't get enough of those melon balls. So it really wouldn't be fair to him, would it? That boy just _loves_ his balls!"

* * *

><p>Author's Note: This is just another fun-fic. Vivienne Grainger (I kept trying to put a link to her profile in her, but kept eating it) suggested an idea to me, and I kinda went somewhere else with it. I <em>meant<em> to do more with her idea, but this story took a life of it's own. But she did inspire me to start this. :)


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